


Of Light and Shadows

by Seldarius



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:59:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seldarius/pseuds/Seldarius
Summary: Phryne's fling has not gone quite as unnoticed as she'd hoped. Time to reconsider some things.





	Of Light and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> On a special request I have decided to copy my old fics over from fanfiction. This one was originally posted on Nov 10, 2013.

He'd left.   
She had never particularly liked him going. It had always given her a certain sense of emptiness that she couldn't quite explain. As if the room dropped two or three degrees in temperature without him there. Not a big problem, but nevertheless, slightly uncomfortable.  
Today however, it worried her more than it usually would have. It had mainly to do with the fact that Miss Fisher was a detective and as such she hadn't missed the look on his face when Marcus had wandered down the stairs.  
It had all been fun and games. Quite a lot of both as she had to admit. Marcus was one of the many support actors holding a tiny role within her first very own film. And also a real gentleman. With a wonderful body, which was one of the first things Phryne had noticed and one of the few she wouldn't forget about him. They had danced the night away at the party after finishing their shoot, drinking and flirting in equally heavy amounts and finally he and some of the props had ended up in her bedroom. Which in itself wasn't a problem, quite the opposite. It only had turned into one when Marcus decided to leave said bedroom the next morning. Well... afternoon. Because downstairs in her parlour there had been another man. One that Phryne knew a lot better and wasn't likely to forget in a hurry. Jack Robinson wasn't really a guest in her house anymore; he felt more like a part of the family. Not the one Phryne had been born into, that one was safely tucked away on the other side of the world and hopefully wouldn't ever decide to return to Australia. No, the DI was part of the family she had built herself here, the companions of choice – hers and theirs. Admittedly, Jack's degree of decision in that respect had been rather limited. She had hounded him to start with, if only for his corpses and information that he so ungentlemanly had refused to share with her simply because she was not a policewoman. That was not a treatment Phryne Fisher would let anyone get away with, let alone a man who was quite that brilliant and she had to say, if not aloud, also rather handsome. His biting wit and intelligence had turned out to be a wonderful addition to Phryne's days, inside and outside of work. And when she had eventually worn him down enough to make him reluctantly agree to a sort of partnership, she had started to see another side of him. He was wise, warm and funny – not that he would admit to any of those things – and she found that he was the man she turned to when things went awry. Miss Fisher's nature made sure that happened quite frequently. He had saved her more often than she cared to remember. And in a lot more ways than simply storming a room where she was just being threatened with a gun or some other deathly device of choice. The easiest way to say it was; that Jack grounded her. Things weren't quite as scary or painful when he was around to soothe the aches of her turbulent life away with his calm voice. His words always showed an insight into her soul that she was quite sure she hadn't given voluntarily. Yet, there he was, knowing her well enough to say the right things at the right time. Which was funny, as she herself couldn't seem to find the magic words to open the Sesame that was Inspector Robinson's calm exterior. But then again, Phryne had never minded a challenge.  
“Miss?"  
Phryne hadn't noticed Dorothy Williams enter the room. Now she did notice her and the very elegant dress she was wearing. So their connection with the Madames de Fleuri was paying off. Miss Fisher peeled herself off the love seat she had been draped over and stepped closer. Dot spun around on the spot, like a little girl that's showing off her fancy birthday dress. And in a way that was probably true.  
"You look absolutely wonderful, Dot. Hugh won't be able to tear his eyes away."  
A slight blush crept over the pretty features of her companion. Phryne's red lips curled into a smile. No, Hugh Collins would not stand a chance tonight. In contrast to Jack. God, that man was a challenge. While Phryne enjoyed a little cat and mouse as foreplay, men generally weren't quite so resilient to her charms. It wasn't that her powder was wasted on him; that was very much not the case if she could trust her instincts and she usually did. He was however a very stubborn man. The Detective-Inspector just refused to give in to her flirtations, he stood his ground; no matter what perfume or clothes she wore, how she smiled at him or touched him. And while she could see the longing in his eyes, felt the sizzle in the air between them when they once again got too close; he put up quite a fight. It was a battle that had nearly broken her heart along with his. Phryne didn't like to think about that night when he had stood in this very room, twisting his hat in his hands and confessing that life without her seemed unbearable to him. And that that was to be the very reason; he chose to not have her in it. An interesting piece of logic if you thought of it, Miss Fisher mused pouring herself a drink after Dot had scrambled back upstairs to change the colour of her lipstick to something more boring.  
It hadn't lasted. But it had been long enough for Phryne to start questioning just why it hurt so much. Of course she would miss Jack. She liked working with him, she enjoyed their quiet drinks together, she even occasionally caught herself depending on him. The depending part she didn't really cherish, it had been a long time since she let any man get the better of her. Nine years and ten months to be exact. She had been young, in love and oh so dumb. Her twisted relationship with Rene Dubois had only lasted three months but it had seemed like a lifetime. After the war with all its death and tragedy she had longed for life and excess and Rene was just that: excessive in every aspect of his being. She had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame, the erotic tension unbearable. He had, admittedly, not been the most considerate of lovers from the start but nevertheless she almost blushed when she thought of some of their adventures – or she would have, had she been prone to blushing. But his passion had left the bedroom and a variety of other places, to drip slowly into their everyday life. Lust had turned to anger and Love to possession. His slap had effectively ended their relationship. The very next day The Honourable Phryne Fisher had dropped off the edge of the world. She had never returned to Paris after that; never said goodbye and only read in the papers of her friend Pierre’s tragic death. That Dubois might have something to do with it had occurred to her briefly. She didn't take it seriously. Neither had she ever considered the unfinished picture she had left with Sarcelle to be involved in his demise. In fact, now that she knew the price he had paid for it, she sometimes wondered if she would have spent all that money to retrieve it from an auctioneer’s hand had she been familiar with the whole truth.  
"Miss Fisher, would you like another drink?"  
Phryne had a hard time hiding the flinch of her shoulders. Mr. Butler had snuck up on her. He was looking at her with the knowing eyes of a man who had seen many things and could read people as if they were books. Sometimes she wondered just how much he could tell.  
"Another one would be perfect, thank you."  
He took the empty glass from her unresisting hand and left his Mistress alone to her musing, a silent smile playing around his lips. Maybe, just maybe she would finally figure it out.  
Phryne realised that she had been staring into the front yard for some time. As if she had been waiting for someone. He wouldn't come. The thought had passed, before she could inspect it any closer. The lady detective chose to sit back down. Waiting on any man was not a habit she desired to take up. Especially when they had only just left.  
The look in the Inspector’s eyes when Marcus had walked down the stairs, trying to maintain as much dignity as was possible when you snuck out of a lady’s bedroom at 3 pm in a crumpled shirt and with the hangover of a life time – she was barely able to describe it. For a split second it had been hurt, no, pure agony, then disappointment and then his eyes had gone cold. Like he had slammed up his shields and chosen to not care any longer. She wasn't sure which part confused her the most.  
Marcus had excused himself quickly, obviously embarrassed, and the Inspector had left shortly after, with a rather lame excuse on his lips and a crease in his brow that she didn't like the look of. While the first didn't bother her much, the latter she couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach about. Actually, it was the coldness that disturbed her the most. Of course he would be hurt. While Jack knew her well enough to be aware of the men that slept in her bed, he was different. He believed in commitment where Phryne didn't and if he were one of her fleeting lovers she would have let him down easy a long time ago. Her one attempt to do that he had defied. He would never ask her to give up who she was, he|d said, and it had felt like a slap to the face even though it was exactly the kind of thing he would utter and actually mean. What, a rebellious voice in her head had whispered, what if she wanted to change?  
Mr. Butler returned with her drink, which to her surprise turned out to be completely devoid of alcohol. Miss Fisher was sure there was a reason for this, but she would not ask. Mr. Butler hardly did anything without the best of reasons.  
She picked up the novel she had been reading; it was time to move on. But the words refused to be taken in by her brain today. The coldness in his eyes still took up too much room in her mind. The truth was that, while their flirtatious dance was bound to cause complications and pain in it's wake, she wasn't quite sure just how she would deal with it stopping.   
The Honourable Phryne Fisher was more than used to fending off men's attentions; she was, after all, quite attractive and in the right clothes of rather stunning appearance. Also, her cockiness partnered with her elegance tended to be seen as a challenge for many men, who found to their surprise, that she was not a woman waiting to be flattered into submission. And while she enjoyed their company, she had never since Paris felt the desire to have a man in her life permanently. Oh, she'd had her affairs and she did sometimes get rather attached to their shared times, the conversations, the erotic escapades. Lin Chung had definitely been a man she wouldn't have minded to keep around for a little while longer. There was so much to be explored. Their clashing cultures just raised the tensions, giving their fling a hint of adventure that she had deeply cherished. Phryne sighed contentedly at the memories. It had been very enjoyable indeed. But their time had always been limited and while she was sad, when he closed the door behind himself, she hadn't missed him. She did miss Jack. And he had only been gone for an hour.

The problem with Inspector Robinson was, she found, that he was not an adventure. He was quite the opposite, a rock against her wild ocean. Grounded, stubborn and unmovable. Yet, she couldn't seem to stop circling him, luring him, provoking him, sometimes with the softest trickle, sometimes with a hard wave. But neither seemed to impress him much. She knew he had feelings for her but nevertheless he wouldn't give her an inch. Instead of fending him off she found herself trying in vain to seduce him – one of the few positions she wasn't strictly comfortable with. Miss Fisher enjoyed the hunt as much as the next girl but she was starting to wonder if there was any point to it.  
The night, after he had confessed just how serious his feelings had become, just to turn and run for the hills, she hadn't slept. That didn't happen very often unless she had company. Phryne would have loved to pretend that she was just torn up about losing a friend. But that wasn't the whole truth. She had known for a long time that there were feelings for him. The deep, dangerous kind, that got you into trouble. She didn't like exploring them, but she knew they were there; ready to make her heart leap when he showed up unexpectedly, drawing her to him when she really had nothing to do or say to excuse her appearance, and making her want to cry at the prospect of being shut out of his life so rudely. Phryne Fisher really wasn't used to crying.  
It probably would have been easy to approach him, explain that she reciprocated his feelings and be done with it. But then there would have been expectations tied to such a confession and that was something she didn't appreciate much. She liked doing whatever she pleased, defying society in every way possible, driving the fastest cars, buying the most expensive clothes and taking home, whomever she felt like. The glorious sense of total freedom she experienced with the wind in her hair or the fingers of a man she only had just met that evening was a drug very hard to give up. Not only because she enjoyed it, but because this was who she had chosen to be.  
Collingwood was full of broken dreams, as every neighborhood was that couldn't even afford to live from day to day. Phryne remembered vividly the first time she had seen a real lady, one that didn't wear a shapeless cotton dress but brightly coloured silk and a matching hat with flowers on it. Of course, today she wouldn't be caught dead in a dress like that, but back in the day it had given her wings. Someday, she had been convinced; she would look just like that. It had turned out to be a lot easier to accomplish than she had ever dreamed. A few people had died that she never heard of before and suddenly the dirt-poor Phryne Fisher had become the daughter of a baron and no mistake. Funny how life could turn out.  
A set of red lips smiled and tried to drain an already empty glass. Confused, Phryne set it down. She couldn't remember when she had drunk her cocktail, whatever it might have been. A knock on the door made her look up, but when a familiar voice swept over from the hall in a friendly greeting to Mr. Butler, she was deflated. It was Hugh, trying to pick up his Dottie. Well, he was in for a surprise, wasn't he? Phryne got up and stood in the door frame, half concealed. There was little as pleasurable as a smitten man's face when the woman he adored managed to take his breath away. And she was quite certain Dot would accomplish that tonight.  
Jack’s face flashed in front of her. The heavy gulp in his throat, his eyes glued to her, flickering to her lips. Yes, she did sometimes manage to take his breath away and she couldn't tell just how much she rejoiced in those moments. However, it was a guilty pleasure. He would not budge and she wasn't going to overstep his boundaries. Somehow Phryne knew that whilst she might be able to lure him into her bed, this would be a point of no return and that in all probability she would lose him in consequence. It was not a sacrifice she was willing to make. Nevertheless she took delight in leaving him flustered as much as in the idea of giving him a real reason to blush.  
A sharp intake of breath ripped Miss Fisher from her musing. She looked at Hugh Collins, who had frozen on the spot, then her eyes swept up to Dorothy who came down the stairs in a slow and rather sultry walk that was totally unlike her. She obviously had watched her mistress that one time too often. Phryne had to bite back a grin. Dot was working it and Hugh was caught; hook, line and sinker. His face told a story with very little words but many "Ohhhs" and "Ahhhs" involved.  
Discreetly the lady of the house retreated into her salon. She envied them. Yes, she was catholic and a little prudish and he was a Protestant and too eager, but nevertheless they would be married within the year. She wasn't keen on marriage she assured herself quickly. No, marriage had never appealed to her, the same as having children of her own. Tying herself to any other human being was just not her idea of an enjoyable lifestyle. Yet... she had adopted Jane. Of course, she had needed someone to take care of her. So did Dot, when she had been released from her service. And in a way she assumed Cec and Bert. And none of them she wanted to miss in her life. She had learned to rely on them as much as they depended on her. Phryne sighed and let herself sink into a chair. Alright, so she had a tendency to tie herself to people, if she wanted to or not. No man was an island and neither was a woman, as it turned out.  
The problem lay not so much in letting people into her heart. It was the letting them go part, that she couldn't bear. The experience was just entirely too painful. And whoever had pointed out, that it was better to love and lose than never to have loved, haven't had a sister murdered by a psychopath believing himself to be the king of bloody Egypt. Janey had been the most dire loss in Phryne’s life but not the only one. She had been to the Great War, had spent her days up to the elbows in the blood of young men. Most of them didn't leave again. To get attached meant undeniably to get your heart broken. So she didn't and it still broke, every day a little bit. There were only so many walls you could build.  
Phryne shook her head in an effort to rid herself of the pictures flooding her brain. After Rene she had given up on romantic involvements. It was just too dangerous a playground. And Jack? He deserved love. Real love. The kind she couldn't give; wasn't willing to give to anyone. She had her car, her dresses, her lovers – and the emptiness, that sometimes came with them. Phryne pulled her legs up onto the chair, unaware that she was staring blindly at one of her aquamarine coloured walls. A pair of thoughtful eyes watched her from the door frame. Mr. Butler had intended to call his Mistress for dinner but it seemed to be a bad time. He retreated silently back into the kitchen, walking past an item that he knew all too well.  
Miss Fisher sat for a while quietly, letting the thoughts wash over her. She liked her freedom, she really did. It was her salvation from suffering through her childhood, the time in the boarding school where she never belonged and through the war. It was liberating to do exactly as you pleased and damn society’s expectations. But the problem with defying society was, that you still couldn't do what you wanted. You just did, what wasn't expected of you. Phryne bit her lip deep in thought, smearing her lipstick a little. She had been aware that Inspector Robinson was going to pay her a visit today. And she had also known that it would cut him deeply to find another man in her house. Nevertheless she had taken Marcus home and Miss Fisher started to wonder, just what that said about her. Was it simple cruelty or was she trying to prove just how much she wasn't his? Phryne didn't like the sound of either possibility. With a sigh, she pulled herself out of the chair. It had gotten dark outside, she would have to see Mr. Butler and enquire after his dinner plans. She didn't really feel like eating but her growling stomach seemed to have other ideas. Miss Fisher crossed the hall on her way to the dining room when she noticed a familiar item hanging. Before she knew just what she was doing, she had picked up Jack's hat, twisting it in her hands. How could he have missed it? He always, always wore his hat and he had never forgotten to take it before.  
Gently her fingertips ran over the familiar brown material. He must have been quite bewildered when he had left. But what was worse – he hadn't come back for it. It was hard to imagine that he would not have noticed that he was missing a piece of his propriety uniform and so the fact that he hadn't already returned could mean only one thing: he couldn't stand to see her right now. Phryne's throat tightened at the idea that their fragile truce might have been broken by her careless display of independence. This time she could have pushed him too far. He might...  
She did not get to finish that thought, as a hesitant hand knocked onto Miss Fisher’s front door that very moment. Her heart missed a beat as she pulled it open. There he stood, a look of unconcealed surprise displayed on his features. As Phryne seemed to have temporarily run out of words, the Inspector cleared his throat.  
"Miss Fisher, it appears you have found my hat."  
He extended his hand with a cheeky grin that was betrayed by his eyes.  
"And there I always thought, a man and his hat were inseparable." She tried a joke while handing over his prized possession.  
"Not even you can know everything about a man."  
They stood in the darkness, looking at each other, neither uttering another word. His smile had faded, but he didn't move. The pain etched on his face was clear as crystal and made her want to weep. Phryne swallowed. She suddenly understood just how much it had taken for him to come back. To still be here. To be brave.  
"Goodnight, Miss Fisher." He turned on his heels and started to walk away, when Phryne found her voice again.  
"Jack?"  
"Yes?" A glimpse of hope ghosted over his features, hardly noticeable.  
"Would you care to stay for dinner? Dot is currently enchanting our dear Hugh and it would be a shame to let Mr. Butler’s cooking skills go unappreciated."  
It took him a moment to respond, and then he nodded.  
"Mr. Butler’s cooking is indeed an offer too tempting to refuse."  
The inspector let himself be led inside where the servant, with an almost invisible smile on his lips, was already setting the dinner table for two. Phryne turned to where Jack was standing in the door frame, watching her with tender eyes that almost, but not quite, hid the pained feelings under the surface. Jack Robinson was a brave man. Maybe she could be brave too. Someday.


End file.
